


I Don't Care What You Think Unless It's About Me

by juicehoee



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, BDSM, Crimes & Criminals, Daddy Kink, Disturbing Themes, Dom/sub, Dominance, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, M/M, Methamphetamine, Mobsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychopath!Juice, Rough Sex, Smut, Submission, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juicehoee/pseuds/juicehoee
Summary: Starcrossed lovers, Juice Ortiz and Chibs Telford, from rival gangs strike up an impossible romance while hiding from the Ozone Crew and New York's Irish mob in Queens, New York. Gangster!AU





	1. Chapter 1

“Nobody messes with the Ozone Crew. You got that, bitch?”

A sickening crack exploded off of the crying kid’s cheekbone as Juice pistol whipped him to oblivion. Blood and tears trickled slowly down his face, showing just how young the kid was. Mario Azzara. Eighteen, not even out of high school. Trapped in the basement of the Ozone headquarters, praying to a false god that he’d make it out alive.

Juice didn’t plan on giving him the option.

“What the hell were you thinking, man?” Juice crouched down next to him, crossing his arms lazily in front of his chest with his gun still in his hand. “You deal for us, you answer to us. You know the rules.”

Juice stood up and circled Mario, step by step by step, like a hawk dangling its prey over jagged, rocky mountains beneath them. His cheeks still had a young fat to them, chubby enough to make him look like a baby.

Not that it mattered to Juice. The crew had lost a lot of money over this punk bitch. And that shit couldn’t stand. They had to send a message.

“Graduation’s next week right?” Juice chuckled, rubbing the gun over the top of Mario’s head. “Is there a return policy for caps and gowns? Wouldn’t want your dear mama to be out a pretty penny.”

Mario squealed and seized, but the binds were too tight. His hands were swollen from lack of circulation, looking like fat, purple sausages. Pangs of nerves shot through his tailbone straight through his ass, but he couldn’t switch positions on the hard, wooden chair he’d been sitting in for hours.

Couldn’t they just let him go?

Mario couldn’t speak through the cloth gag tied tight around his head. The gun in Juice’s hand was the only thing he could stare at, and in the stress, he almost begged for the cold metal to end him just to stop his heart from banging so hard against his ribcage.

“Look at me,” Juice whispered. “Look at me, bitch!”

_ Crack! _

Mario struggled in the chair he was bound to, his petrified eyes unable to look away from Juice as Juice raised the gun to his face. Mario stared down the cold, empty barrel.

He thought of his mom. Graduation was next week. She wouldn’t see her son walk across the stage with all of the other mothers. She’d be planning his funeral, throwing away all of their dreams of Mario getting out of Queens, going to school, and making something of himself.

Instead, he was going to die a meth dealer at the hands of the infamous Ozone Killer, Juice Ortiz.

That’s not what Mario’s mother wanted for her son. But it’s what she was going to get.

“Please,” he begged through the gag. “Please, Juice, don’t do-”

_ Bang! _

***

“Hey, man, how’d it go?” Happy Lowman, the other Ozone enforcer, asked Juice after he burst through the door to the basement.

Juice blew right by him, bumping Happy with his shoulder. “How’d you think it went. Kid’s dead.”

“What?” Happy was shocked. “Dude, you were supposed to get him to make our money back. If he’s dead, we can’t get any cash out of him.”

“Get one of the new guys to clean it up. I’m going home for a joint and some Halo. Don’t call me, come to my house, or contact me. I don’t wanna talk.”

Happy caught Juice by the wrist before he ran out the door, holding tight until Juice felt his bones screeching under the pressure. “Careful, Ortiz.”

“Shut up, Lowman.”

Happy let Juice go reluctantly. He walked right out the door with his leather jacket on and a chip on his shoulder.

“That guy’s lost, bro.” Half-Sack, one of the new guys said. “No coming back after being a killer like that for so long.”

Happy stared at Sack with his death glare, a signature for him within the crew. He’d stared grown men down, stripping them of their layers one by one, until they felt so naked they ran from the crew with their tails between their legs. Most of them never showed their faces in Queens again.

“You talk about Juice with respect. He’s the guy standing between you and a bullet right between your goddamn eyes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs meets a handsome man at a bar he usually doesn't go to.

“Hey there, darlin’!” Chibs’ boisterous voice echoed around the bar. “Lemme buy you a drink, ye’re too pretty to be drinkin’ alone!”

The man turned his head toward Chibs with a sour look on his face. “I’m not here to fuck, buddy. I’m here for a simple glass of Scotch, so if you don’t mind-”

“Bartender! Scotch, neat. Make it two.” Chibs interrupted the lovely stranger before he could object any further. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

“You fucking Irish prick.” the guy cursed him, with a dramatic roll of his big, brown eyes.

“Scottish, actually.” Chibs corrected him. “I’ll give ye a pass on tha’ this time, thank ye very much.”

Chibs didn’t frequent this particular bar too often. Wasn’t his usual crowd. His usual crowd huddled up at Flanagan’s Pub up the street, roaring and cheering off their drunken Irish asses like they would any other Saturday night. Organized crime was hard work and a good Irishmen knew that a drink or two at the end of the week would solve everything before Monday began again.

How a lonely old Scotsman had fiddled his way into the Irish mob in New York City was beyond Chibs. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take advantage.

So, no, Chibs didn’t really come to this bar all that often. Just when he needed a bar quieter than Flanagan’s to feed his alcoholic demons. This stranger, however, now he was a regular. Sat with a swagger of someone who felt like he owned the place.

And, dammit, the boy was fucking gorgeous.

The bartender came back with their drinks. Chibs slid the stranger his drink while taking a sip of his own, never breaking eye contact.

“So, gorgeous. Wha’s your name?”

“Juice.”

“Juice? Seems like a strange name to me.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Nickname for what?”

“None of your damn business.”

Chibs put his hands up in surrender. “Alrigh’, alrigh’. I won’ pry. Jus’ curious to put a name to tha’ pretty face of yours. Name’s Chibs by the way.”

“Chibs?” Juice scoffed. “Your name is Chibs and you’re on my ass about having a weird name?”

“T’is a nickname.”

“For what?”

“None of your business.”

Juice cracked half a smile at that, and Chibs sat up a little straighter, puffed his chest out a little more like a triumphant peacock putting his feathers on display.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both sipping on their Scotch slowly while the low sound of old time rock ‘n’ roll rumbled on in the background. Juice stared straight down at his drink while Chibs just couldn’t take his eyes off of Juice.

“What are you staring at?”

“Your beautiful face, love. Can’t bring myself to look away.”

“Yeah, right.” Juice rolled his eyes. “I believe that like I believe in the Loch Ness Monster.”

“I’m serious, darlin’.” Chibs leaned in close, his lips almost against Juice’s ear. “And I take the Loch Ness Monster _very seriously_ , so I’d tread lightly on tha’ subject if I were ye.”

“Oh, you’re Scottish, right.” Juice put on a wide toothy grin. “Forgot about that.”

“I’ll make sure you remember it, laddie.” Chibs smirked back at him. “I’ll make damn sure.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Juice challenged.

Chibs never backed down from a challenge.

 

* * *

 

Chibs slammed Juice against the grimy mirror in the bathroom of the bar, desperate to remove as much clothing as he possibly could. Juice shed his t-shirt, exposing his perfectly sculpted torso.

“Fuck, darlin’. I knew you were gorgeous, bu’ I didn’ know you were this gorgeous.” Chibs breathed against Juice’s neck.

“Well, stop staring at my body and come feel how tight I am.”

“Righ’ down to business, eh?”

Juice explicitly told Chibs ‘no kissing’. His dirty Scottish mouth wasn’t allowed to touch him. Chibs respected that, he had to. Couldn’t risk the chance of this fresh, young meat walking right out the door.

“Go’ any condoms on you, darlin’?” Chibs asked, ripping his pants to his ankles, nothing fancy about it.

“No, wasn’t really planning on doing this tonight.” Juice said. He reached down and held Chibs’ cock and balls in a painfully iron grip. “Just put it in. No funny business.”

Chibs let out a rattling breath of discomfort as Juice squashed his package, but it somehow made him harder. “Whatever you say, lad. Jus’ don’ rip my cock off before we can ge’ this started.”

Chibs breathed out a sigh of relief as Juice let go of him, looking all too smug and arrogance. Sure, the tattoos made Juice seem tough, but Chibs figured he’d have the boy squealing in no time.

Brat thought he was in control, huh?

Chibs hitched Juice’s legs around his waist and slammed into him without warning. Juice tightened his grip around Chibs’ hips, yelling out with a groan.

“Could you give a guy a warning first?” Juice complained. He acted like he was above this, but Chibs had seen guys like Juice before. He’d fucked guys like Juice before. Horny and desperate and willing to submit to someone that would put them in their place.

Chibs grabbed Juice by his black hair, yanking his head backward until Juice was straining to look at him. A healthy dose of fear sparkled in Juice’s eyes.

“You’re gonna be callin’ me Daddy by the time we’re through, darlin’.” Chibs accentuated his words with a swift slam of his hips into Juice, holding himself fully inside Juice, letting him feel every inch stuffed inside.

“Yeah, right,” Juice’s voice was strained and his eyes rolled in the back of the head. Still not willing to admit how damn good Chibs made him feel. “I won’t be calling you anything.”

“Oh, no. You’ve go’ it all wrong, lad.” Chibs pulled Juice’s head back harder with a raging smirk on his cocky face. “You don’ have a choice.”

With every powerful thrust, Juice was driven closer to the edge and he knew this time, he wouldn’t even need to touch himself to get off and this embarrassed him. Damn Scottish prick knew what he was doing and it was driving Juice crazy.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Juice moaned, gyrating his hips.

Lightning quick, Chibs grabbed Juice, cock and balls together in a grip ten times tighter than he had held Chibs. It knocked the breath out of Juice who felt powerless, his precious jewels in the hand of some stranger who knew exactly what buttons to press.

“If you do what ye’re told an’ call me Daddy like a good boy,” Chibs murmured. “I’ll let you ge’ off.”

“And if I don’t?” Juice spit back.

“If you don’, I’ll squeeze ye like this until I finish in your ass an I’ll leave ye here. Drippin’ and desperate.”

Juice called his bluff, keeping his mouth shut and avoiding Chibs’ eyes. He felt humiliated by the fact that this shit turned him on, the threats, the pain. Shit, he’d been calling Chibs ‘Daddy’ in his head since they stepped foot in the bathroom.

But he wouldn’t admit it. He just couldn’t.

“Very well then.”

Chibs thrust in him without releasing the hard grip on Juice’s cock, and Juice strained to cum despite the grip, making the veins pop out on his neck. There was no use.

As promised, Chibs finished inside of him and Juice could feel the cum leaking out of his ass as Chibs pulled out with a slick _pop!_

Juice felt dirty. Humiliated. Demoralized. Hornier than he’d ever been in his life.

What the fuck just happened?

Chibs pulled his pants back up to his hips and quickly did his belt while Juice leaned against the dirty bathroom mirror, chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths.

Chibs smirked and threw Juice’s t-shirt at him, landing on his cock which was still standing straight out at attention.

“Well, darlin’, thanks for the quick fuck,” Chibs laughed, halfway in the bathroom, halfway out. The door was open wide enough for people to see Juice, naked and hard, sitting pretty on the bathroom sink.

“Fuck off, Scotty.”Juice growled, not bothering to hide his boner from the customers outside. “You really are a fucking prick.”

“Well, gorgeous. If I see you ‘round, we can always have another go.” Chibs shrugged. “And you can finish as long as you behave.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Irish hatch a new plan. Juice is on probation.

“S’lookin’ like a turf war, isn’ it?” 

Every head in the room turned to the head of the table. Jimmy O’Phelan scratched his chin and a slow nod brought the answer everyone was dreading. 

“We can’t!” Galen O’Shea shouted. “We’re already weak from our last round of fightin’! Our stock isn’t nearly what it used to be. We have no guns, no ammo. Nothing to defend ourselves with.”

“Well, we can’t pump our drugs into the streets while the Ozone are out there. People in Queens don’t trust new players, Ozone’s been their go-to for meth far before we’d landed here.” Jimmy seethed, pointing his daggers-for-eyes straight at Galen. 

“There are no streets or corners here to own here. It’s winner take all. All or nothing. And right now, Ozone has all of it, leaving us with zip.” Rourke piped in, taking a swig of his whiskey while he spoke. “It’s hurting our bottom line, Galen. We’re already close to broke as it is.”

“We have no guns!” Galen argued.

Chibs slammed his fist down on the table. “We figh’ with our lives to protect our cause, no matter how many guns and bullets we have stored up.”

“We’re fighting stupid, Filip.”

“Then we fight smarter!” Chibs yelled. “We take them out one by one on our turf instead of brawlin’ in the streets like madmen!”

The Irish held Church in the back of their bar at a round table where every member had an assigned seat. But the seat had to be earned. A couple blokes stood in the back under the shadows, itching to speak their piece.

Overzealous, Chibs thought of the new guys, the prospects. Wouldn’t last more than a few months without getting caught in the crossfire.

He could tell by the stern look on the rest of their faces that they agreed with him, but they couldn’t show it. Of course, they would follow Chibs’ plan, they always did, but they wouldn’t give him any credit for it.

As the only Scotsman at the round table, Chibs was something of an outcast. He had the scars to prove it, too.

“Filip’s right.” Jimmy O spat, his distaste for the Scotsman clear on his sneering face. “We’ve got to divide them and then conquer them.”

Chibs heard the rest of his guys droning on in the background, but his mind wandered. He’d said what he needed to say and that was as much as the guys were going to listen to anyway.

Chibs couldn’t get his mind off the poor pup he’d met at the bar a few days ago. The poor look on his face while he leaned against the mirror, empty and panting, while Chibs just walked right out the door. Lad was used to being in control, Chibs could tell by his attitude. 

No way in hell would Chibs have let that happen.

“All in favor?” Jimmy O’s bark brought Chibs back to reality.

“Aye!” They all yelled in unison, Chibs included. Even if he had no idea what in God’s good name they were talking about.

“Then it’s settled. We begin our attack. We kill them one by one until there are none left.”

 

* * *

 

“We took a huge hit with the goddamn money that the Mario kid owed us and you go out there and kill him!” Jax threw his arms in the air. “What the hell were you thinking, Ortiz?”

Jax Teller, leader of the Ozone Crew and the subject of Juice’s current frustration, paced back and forth in the kitchen of the HQ. Juice leaned back and crossed his arms in the chair while Jax towered over him.

Suddenly, Juice felt like he was in the first grade again getting lectured for putting bubblegum in Suzy Murray’s hair.

“Come on, Jax, he was just a highschooler,” Juice rolled his eyes. “Plenty of other kids willing to do the dirty work for a little glory. We can capitalize on that shit, easy.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Juice!” Jax roared, rounding on Juice. 

They were nose to nose, but Juice didn’t dare back down. 

“The point is,” Jax continued. “That we’ve got the corpse of a kid downstairs.  _ A kid! _ We don’t kill kids, Juice.”

“No, but we’ll sell drugs to ‘em and let them kill themselves.” Juice snarled.

“You’re on probation, shithead.” Jax shoved Juice back into the chair. “I expect the place to be in tip top shape by the time I get back here.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Teller?” Juice jumped up, shoving the chair over behind him. “We’ve got new guys to do all the maid shit-”

“Probation. That’s final.”

Jax trudged out the door without another look back at Juice, who was on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum.

He slammed one of the glass cups from the table, watching it shatter to a million pieces, cursing when he realized he was the one who had to clean it up.

“Fuck you, Teller,” Juice huffed, feeling like a grounded ten year old. “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

In truth, Juice couldn’t get the image of Mario out of his mind. Eyes paralyzed in terror even after he was gone, mouth slack open still gagged with cloth. He was a goodamned kid. Eighteen years old. Juice would have to look his mother in the eye at the funeral. Closed casket, of course.

She wouldn’t even have her son’s body to bury. All because of Juice.

“FUCK!” Juice screamed, letting the anguish rip through his voicebox. “FUCK YOU, YOU DUMB BITCH!”

He pretended he was talking to Jax, but he was talking to himself, the self-hatred bubbling up at the top of his chest like heartburn.

Juice sunk to his knees and pressed both palms to the glass, savoring the feeling of his open skin bleeding. Glass buried himself within him and for a second, he was made entirely of glass. Fragile and dangling and in danger of being shattered.

Juice punished himself because he had to. For the monster he had become.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy helps Juice let out some frustation.

Juice was down on his hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor with bleach. The stench of it was getting to his head a little bit, making him feel a bit woozy with cleaning chemicals, but he wanted to get this shit done and go home where his cozy bed and good joint were waiting for him.

“How’s it goin’, Cinderella?”

Juice whipped his head around to see Happy grinning down at him from the doorway. He huffed and ignored Happy, continuing to scrub bleach into the floor.

“It smells like shit in here.” Happy commented, walking across the floor.

“It smells  _ clean _ , Hap,” Juice corrected him. “Not that you would know what that smells like.”

“You’re a miserable bastard, you know that, Juice?” 

“I’d be less miserable if you got your muddy shoes  _ off of my spotless floor! _ ”

Happy hopped up onto the counter, dangling his legs over the side. Juice glared at him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t.

“When was the last time you got laid, man? You’re wound up too tight, need that release.” Happy inspected his fingernails

Happy acted as if he didn’t see Juice’s face turn red from Happy’s presence. Juice was a loner, and he liked to keep it that way. Ever since Hap joined the crew, he wouldn’t let Juice be alone, opting to force his friendship onto him instead.

The thought made steam pour from Juice’s ears.

“Seriously, though.” Happy insisted. “When was the last time? I’m worried about you, you know. Can’t go off killing kids just because you haven’t got your dick sucked in a while.”

Juice thought about the stranger from the bar. About how horny and frustrated he felt when he left the bar with a boner, walking down the street with embarrassment written all over his cheeks at how obviously hard he was. Everyone could see. And everyone was looking.

“Woah, have you actually fucked someone?” Happy asked, surprised by the look on Juice’s face. “Who was he?”

“Some guy at the bar.” Juice said. “He was real good. Wouldn’t let me finish unless I called him ‘Daddy’.”

“And did you?”

“No. Barely knew the prick.”

“No wonder you’re so frustrated then, amigo.” Happy smirked. “You got your dick set on a stranger and he didn’t even let you get off.”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

Juice scrubbed frantically at the floor as if that would help anything. He hated that Happy could see right through him.

“You know,” Happy hopped off the counter and kneeled down next to Juice. “I could help you with some of that frustration.”

Juice frowned. Sex? With Happy? “I don’t know if that’s a good-”

Juice let out a breath as Happy socked him in the gut. The hit itself wasn’t too hard, but the surprise knocked the wind out of Juice.

“Hit me back. Punch me as hard you can.”

Juice didn’t hesitate as he leapt onto Happy, knocking the taller man onto the ground. Juice straddled his stomach and threw punch after punch after punch until Happy was unconscious. Blood spotted his face and his neck was limp.

Juice didn’t know Happy was awake until he shoved Juice off of him, pinning him to the floor.

“Feel better?”

Juice nodded. “Yeah. A lot better. Thanks, man.”

It was a lie. He felt like shit. He just beat his friend unconscious. His knuckles hurt. And now he had to bleach all the blood out of the floor. Great.

The door burst open and Jax Teller stood above them, shaking his head at the side of a bloody Happy and Juice pinned to the ground by his shoulders.

“How’s the cleaning going, Juice?”

Juice forced a weak smile. “Good?”

“I’m here to tell you something.” Jax looked down at his sneakers, pursing his lips. “Half-Sack’s dead. Some Irish prick shoved an ice pick through his brain and threw him on my doorstep.”

Happy and Juice sat there in shock. Juice felt his face go pallid and his hands clammed up. Half-Sack? Dead? He was going to be better than any of them.

“The Irish did it?” Happy asked, no emotion in his voice. “How do you know?”

“Don’t think I was supposed to know.” Jax admitted. “Someone stuck him before he even knew it, pretty sure Sack didn’t even have time to pull his gun.”

“Shit, man.” Juice felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. Half-Sack was just a kid, not that much older than Mario.

“If the rumors are true about the Irish running low on guns,” Jax said. “It would make sense why they stabbed instead of shot. There’s no way they could take all of us on with no ammo.”

Juice seethed, his lips twitched as an intense urge to shoot, strike, and kill washed over him. He saw red and revenge for his lost soldier, wanting nothing more than to maim the Irish prick responsible for the death of one of his crew.

Juice was loyal to his crew, and his crew alone. Nothing could stop him from taking an eye for an eye.

“I have a plan, kill two birds with one stone kinda thing.” Jax said, nodding at Happy. “We’re gonna take on of the Irish. Hold him for ransom here. Once the money is wired to us, we kill him. And shit’s even.”

“That makes up for the money Mario owed us.” Happy calculated.

“Exactly. Hap, you’re with me. We ride tonight.” 

Juice started to protest, but Jax shut him up. 

“No, Juice. You’re still on probation in my book and I need someone to set up the basement for our visitor.” Jax ordered.

“When do we go, boss?” Happy asked, his hands itching for the chance at violence. Juice had taken all the violent gigs lately and Happy was getting antsy. Hadn’t even fired his gun in more than two weeks.

“Now. Let’s go.” Jax said. He turned back to Juice. “Clean all this shit up. Rookie.”

Juice narrowed his eyes, but opted not to say anything as Happy and Jax geared up and headed out the door.

As much as Juice wanted revenge for Sack, he knew his head wasn’t in the right place to be out in the field like that. Jax knew that, he always did.

That just meant Juice would be more useful off the field. Here. In the basement. With some rope and some screws, and a whole lot of ideas on how to hurt someone. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ozone Crew gets an unwilling visitor.

Chibs hadn’t even seen them coming.

He was minding his own business, heading home after a long night of planning, drinking from a bottle in a paper bag. Rain spit from the sky as Chibs took a swig, water splashing around his ankles as he feet sunk into puddle after puddle. The sidewalk was long, dark, and empty. Just how Chibs liked his sidewalks on his strolls home in the middle of the night. It was peaceful and the silence was too loud to think, especially if he was sloshed enough.

A ruffling sound came from across the street, most likely from the black SUV parked across from him. Chibs thought nothing of it. He was too drunk to care. If the Lord decided it was his time, then it was decided. No use fighting a Catholic God, they fight back harder.

Chibs hadn’t even heard them sneak up behind him. Hadn’t suspected a thing until it was too late.

Two masked men knocked him upside the head without a sound. They were quick, quiet. People who had definitely done this before.

Chibs wasn’t unconscious with the first hit. He kicked and screamed and bit and spit at the offenders with all of the fight in his Scottish spirit. The taller one hit him in the skull once more, sending Chibs’ body limp on the damp street.

Sometimes, a fighting spirit didn’t count for much when you were outnumbered.

None of his Irish brothers would have gone out of their way to protect Chibs. He was a goner once the target was set on him.

***

“Oh, god…” 

Juice threw his head back as his finger glided over his shaft, putting pressure on himself just below the tip. Something about violence and the sight of various  _ interrogation _ devices always seemed to get him hard.

Slitting someone’s throat was so intimate. Being so close to them. Sharing their last breath. Being the last thing they see before they croak. It got Juice off.

“Anybody home?” Happy shouted down the stairs to the cellar.

Juice didn’t bother making himself decent as Happy’s heavy footfalls came down the stairs. Juice finished himself off, blowing his load onto the chair their hostage would be tied to for the rest of his short life. 

“Jesus, man,” Happy shook his head. “Put that thing away. We’ve got company. Need you to help us drag him all the way down here.”

Juice felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sight of the man with a bag tied over his head, passed out in the back of Jax’s truck. He had no fucking idea what he had coming.

It took Jax, Happy, and Juice to bring him all the way down to the basement, throw him in the chair and tie his wrists to the hard, wooden arms.

“Would you like the do the honors, Juicy?” Jax asked.

Juice grinned, picking up the bucket of ice water and dumping the entirety of its contents over the head of their prisoner, soaking him to the bone.

“WHA’ THE FECKIN’ HELL ARE YOU-” the man flailed against his restraints, struggling to breathe with the wet bag sticking to his skin, filling his mouth.

Happy ripped the bag off his head to reveal, much to Juice’s shock, the face of the Scotsman who fucked him at the bar. 

Shit. Just shit. Shit.  _ Shit _ .

Both Chibs and Juice looked at each other, shocked and horrified.

“Y-you?” Juice sputtered out, hating the feeling that arose in him at the sight.

“Juice?” Chibs questioned. “Who the hell are ye pricks?” 

“Ozone Crew.” Jax said. 

“You’re Ozone, Juice?” Chibs asked. Juice detected some sense of hurt in the dumb prick’s eyes. “You’re a goddamn Ozone soldier?”

“You got that right, bud.” Juice crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Why didn’ you tell me?” Chibs said, pouting slightly. 

“You didn’t tell me you were an Irish gangster.” Juice said, coldly.

“Scottish.” Chibs corrected. “Scottish working for the Irish.”

“Not anymore, pal.” Juice spit.

“You know each other?” Happy asked, thoroughly freaked. “How the hell do you two know each other?”

“Bar.” Juice answered. “We’ll leave it at that.”

“What? Like you played pool together or some shit?” Jax asked. 

Chibs scoffed. “You could say somethin’ like tha’.”

Chibs didn’t know why he was hurt. Maybe because he had fantasies of meeting the charming stranger from the bar by chance and fucking his brains out in the bathroom. Maybe they could’ve taken it to the bedroom. Maybe it would’ve been more.

Screw it. He was a pathetic romantic. Not that it mattered with his fantasies being dashed away.

“Give me the room.” Juice ordered, shooing Jax and Happy away. “I want a few hours with this one before we really get started.”

“Isn’t that a, uhh, what’s the word,” Happy asked, snapping when he figured it out. “Conflict of interest! Yeah, that’s it!”

“Happy might be right,” Jax whispered. “You sure you got this?”

“Just because we’ve met before doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice doesn't go easy on Chibs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know some things my readers would like to see in this :) I love this alternate universe

Juice watched Chibs like a hawk as Jax and Happy retreated up the stairs. 

He was soaked to the bone like an abused puppy from those sad Sarah McLachlan commercials. Chibs just looked so goddamn helpless. Juice liked that. It made him hard.

“Excited there, Juicy?” Chibs smirked, staring straight at Juice’s crotch. 

“Watch your mouth, Scot.” Juice threatened.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Juice.” Chibs got a little cocky, remembering all too well the man he had whimpering against the grimy mirror.

Juice slapped him across the face, leaving a stinging red handprint on Chibs’ right cheek, right over his scar. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Chibs spit out blood onto the front of his shirt, but he didn’t say anything else. Juice took pride in his taking Chibs down a peg. Felt good. Powerful.

“You hit like you fuck,” Chibs sneered. “Weak.”

Juice busied himself with the various metal instruments he fixed together on a tray just for this occasion. He took extra care with his favorite scalpel; he figured he’d be using a lot tonight.

“Ye sure ye’re no’ excited, lad?” Chibs raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure I could se yer bulge from a mile away.”

Juice’s blood boiled. His face flared up with steam and he slowly turned to face Chibs with the scalpel in his hand. Chibs thought he looked a bit like the Joker, widening his wild eyes until Chibs could see his blood vessels popping.

“Oh, I’m excited.” Juice’s voice was quiet and shaking, like the calm before the storm. Somehow, it was scarier than yelling. “I’m fucking excited alright.”

Juice climbed into Chibs’ lap, straddling him. Chibs was surprised at first, but leaned into it despite the menacing grip Juice had on the scalpel. Even though his cheek still stung, he knew Juice wouldn’t hurt him. Didn’t know how he knew, he just did.

“Can you feel that?” Juice whispered against his neck.

Juice grinded his hard-on into Chibs’ crotch, savoring the friction in his jeans. Chibs, with the little mobility he had, slammed his hips into Juice and Juice smirked, feeling how hard Chibs had gotten.

“Now, who’s excited?” Juice breathed against Chibs’ neck. “Looks like I’m not the only one with a bulge.”

“O’course I’m fuckin’ hard for you, gorgeous.” Chibs moaned, pulling against his restraints. “Didn’ think we’d get into the BDSM part o’ this so soon, but, shite, you’re a natural lad.”

Juice pressed the scalpel to Chibs’ throat, digging into the skin just enough to draw a few drops of blood down his pale neck. “Watch your filthy fucking mouth, you goddamned slut.”

“Make me.”

Juice threw the scalpel across the floor and wrapped his hands around Chibs’s throat, forcefully pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. Chibs kissed back harder, biting Juice’s bottom lip until the skin broke and they both had to pull back to get some air. 

Breathing heavy, Juice squeezed harder on Chibs’ throat until Chibs gasped for air. He let go, and Chibs fell limp in his restraints, pressing his face against Juice’s chest.

“I’m gonna fucking finish this time.” Juice growled. “And you’re gonna swallow every last drop of my cum like the good little Scottish whore I know you are.”

“Oh, I’m a whore now?” Chibs lifted his head up to sass Juice a bit.

Chibs loved how hard Juice fought for control and dominance, but he just couldn’t grasp it. Even restrained by his wrists in a wooden chair in the Ozone Crew’ basement, Chibs was the dominant one. Juice could pretend, but deep down they both knew.

“You’re a goddamn cumbucket.” Juice seethed, struggling to unbutton his pants. He couldn’t stop grinding against Chibs’ crotch long enough to undo the zipper.

“I believe tha’ title goes to ye, darlin’.” Chibs shot back. “Might I remind ye tha’ you were leakin’ with  _ my _ cum tha’ night.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’ it?” Chibs asked, unconvinced. “Are ye no’ the one too busy humpin’ me to even ge’ his feckin’ pants off?”

Juice blushed. Chibs was right. And that earned him another vicious slap across his other cheek that stung worse than the first.

“Every time you hit me, lad, it jus’ makes me wanna hold you down and fuck ye even harder.” Chibs chirped. “S’hot tha’ you think you’re the dominant one here. Desperate cub.”

“Shut up.”

“Ye love the way I talk to ye.” Chibs went on. “Makes you feel low. Humiliated. You love tha’ shite.”

“I don’t.”

“Ye do.”

Juice finally got his pants off and shoved them to the side. He stood on the chair, both feet planted on the outside of Chibs’ legs so his hard cock slapped Chibs on the face.

“Gonna make me suck you off, darlin’?” Chibs asked.

“Nope.” Juice was too occupied with getting busy to focus on Chibs too much. “You’re just gonna take my sperm down your throat.”

Juice masturbated violently in Chibs’ face. His cock was already sensitive from climaxing just a few moments before, so it wasn’t long before Juice was climaxing again.

“This time, I’ll be the one to finish.” Juice moaned out. “You’ll be the one to stay hard and desperate and untouched.”

Chibs didn’t say anything, just leaned forward a bit to pop one of Juice’s balls into his mouth, sucking hard and slobbering all over. Juice grabbed Chibs’ hair and yanked it back.

“Open that filthy fucking mouth.” Juice ordered, wrenching Chibs’ mouth open himself when Chibs was too slow. “Suck on the tip.”

Juice shoved the tip of his cock into Chibs’ mouth and he spurted his seed down the Scotsman’s throat.

Chibs swallowed enthusiastically, licking his lips clean. “Tha’ it? Didn’ produce too much there, if ye know wha’ I mean.”

“You’re more of a goddamn handful than you’re worth, prick.”

“I know ye’d like a handful of my cock, wouldn’ ye?” Chibs smirked. “Don’ you remember how good it felt while I was inside ye, how hard I squeezed yer cock an’ balls, how submissive ye were to me?”

“I’m not submissive to anyone.”

“Except me.  You’re weak for a little Scottish fuckin’, aren’ ye?” Chibs prodded him. “Aren’ ye?”

“I’m not weak! And I’m certainly not weak for you!”  
“Oh really?” Chibs raised his eyebrow and scoffed. “Is tha’ why you’re hard again then?”

Juice looked down between his legs to see his cock standing at attention. He quickly moved to cover his crotch from Chibs’ view, cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

“Tha’s wha’ I thought, darlin.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Scotsman attempts a daring escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just moved back to school again! Though the first couple days will be stressful, I'm hoping this will be a motivator to write some more! I always appreciate feedback as well, so don't be shy! :)

“I take it ye’re no’ gonna let me go,” Chibs sighed, halfheartedly pulling at the ropes around his wrists. “Even if tha’ meant I could spend the rest of my life fuckin’ the hell outta ye?”

“Blow me.” Juice snapped back.

“Gladly.”

Juice huffed and went about cleaning up the area, rearranging the metal torture devices he was supposed to be using on Chibs. 

“Can ye at least let my hands free?” Chibs asked. “Come on, Juicy, they’re burnin’ from ye manhandlin’ me. Jus’ one then?”

“No.”

“Shit, Juice. Never pegged you for a psychopath.”

“I’m not a psychopath.” Juice glowered, bending down to pick up the scalpel he had thrown across the room.

“Hate to break it to ya, but ye are.” Chibs shrugged. “A psychopath with a fantastic ass.”

Juice dragged the scalpel across Chibs throat, forcing him to keep his head still. His fingers ran through Chibs’ hair, massaging his scalp lovingly. Chibs closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure, a small shiver running up his spine.

“You like that, baby?” Juice challenged, dragging his nails across the top of Chibs’ head. “That feel good?”

Chibs let out a breath, letting the air deflate from his lungs like a balloon. “Well, I could do without the blade to my neck, bu’ other than tha’, you feel heavenly, Juice, as always.”

Juice narrowed his eyes, reading pure affection in Chibs’ voice. His heart softened looking at the Scot melt into his fingers, closing his eyes and moaning in pleasure. Juice muttered a quick  _ shit _ under his breath and lowered the scalpel.

“Fine.” Juice grumbled.

“Wha’?” Chibs frowned.

“Shut up before I change my goddamn mind.”

Chibs obeyed, shutting his loud mouth while Juice took his time in taking the ropes off of Chibs’ hands. Juice cursed himself at being so good with knots. It took ten minutes to even get one of them done.

The sound of a car engine roared outside and faded away into the background as Juice finally got the second rope untied. Chibs’ wrists were stung with an angry rash. Juice bent down to his knees, rubbing soothing circles on the insides of Chibs’ wrists. He winced at the pain of contact but relaxed when Juice pressed his lips to Chibs’ veins. Juice peppered kisses all along the tender, fleshy part of Chibs’ arm.

“Look at tha’, lad,” Chibs said. “Already back down on your knees for me. Wha’ are ye, soft?”

“Maybe I can make it up to you? For being so mean earlier?” Juice pouted, pressing his hands against Chibs’ crotch. 

“We can definitely negotiate somethin’ there, darlin.” Chibs pressed himself into Juice’s palms eagerly. “Righ’ there, baby. Oh Jesus, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” Juice mewled. “I’m about to get ten times as gorgeous.” 

He popped open Chibs’ zipper, exposing the Scot’s throbbing cock. Juice wrapped his lips around it without hesitation, humming to send vibrations down his shaft. Chibs bucked, slipping himself inside Juice’s mouth further and Juice took him without trouble.

“I don’t have a gag reflex.” Juice purred, rubbing his face against Chibs’ cock, nuzzling his face into his sack.

“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart.”

Chibs pushed Juice’s head down onto his shaft with a little more force, his mobster aggression slowly leaking out of him. Juice tsked and pulled off of Chibs, suctioning a loud  _ pop _ as he came off the tip.

“Just because I’m making it up to you because I was mean,” Juice said. “Doesn’t mean you get to start being mean to me now, babe.”

Chibs growled in protest, but didn’t argue, allowing Juice to take him on his terms. Chibs was eager, all too eager, to slam his cock down Juice’s throat and skullfuck him until he lost his voice. Little punk.

“Come on, Juicy. You gotta give an ol’ man a little somethin’ to work with.” Chibs groaned, bucking his hips into Juice’s face.

“How about this?” 

Juice slowly took Chib’s cock into his throat, inch by inch until Juice devoured the entirety of Chibs’ shaft, humming along his throbbing veins until Chibs threw his head back, shaking with pleasure.

“Fuck, Juicy!”

Juice went further, licking Chibs’ balls with his warm, wet tongue, lapping at them like a hungry little kitten lapping up milk. A knot in Chibs’ stomach tightened as he watched Juice suck the hell out of his cock like with experience.

The boy was far from innocent.  _ Far  _ from innocent. Dirty little thing looking up at him with the big, brown eyes of a killer while Chibs’ cock was shoved so far down him, he could feel Juice’s throat tighten around him. 

_ Fuck. _

“Are you gonna be a good lad and call me by my title?” Chibs groaned, tightening his stomach muscles to keep from spurting his seed into Juice right then and there.

Juice shook his head in defiance, humming a distinctive “nu-uh”.

“Hmm,” Chibs considered this, placing his hands gently on Juice’s scalp, massaging gently into his tender skin. “In tha’ case, sorry for wha’ I’m abou’ to do, lad.”

Without warning, Chibs gripped Juice’s head harder and forced it into the hard, wooden arm of the chair. Juice knocked out immediately, landing in a crumpled heap at Chibs’ feet. He hadn’t even known what hit him.

Chibs leapt into action, jumping up to find the window of the basement. Bingo. There was one to his left that he could jimmy open and shimmy on through up into freedom.

With a few heavy-handed shoves, the window slid open just enough for Chibs to squeeze his body through. He looked back at Juice, bleeding from his forehead.

“Sorry, baby. As fuckin’ pretty as ye are, can’ let you go off killin’ me.”

He was sorry, honest. He really was. Poor thing’s leg was bent at a painful angle. Not broken, but the lad would be limping for a few days, that was for sure.

“I’ve got some ice for tha’ leg if you need it,” Chibs murmured, though he was really only talking to himself because Juice couldn’t hear him anyway. “Ye gotta stay at my place to ge’ it.”

With that, Chibs ran off into the night as fast as his frail legs could carry him, his boots splashing up water around his ankles with every heavy step. Juice was still unconscious on the floor, gaping wound still bleeding on his forehead. It would be hours before Happy and Jax returned to find him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice gets a visitor.

Juice was sat up in his bed, watching some dumb movie on the Hallmark Channel. One of those silly romance flicks that was absolutely disgusting bullshit that doesn’t happen in real life. Some goddamn Romeo and Juliet type shit. Gross. He didn’t have enough energy to get up and change the channel after the beatdown Hap and Jax had put on him. Two black eyes, a broken pinkie, and his arm was in a sling. Not to mention the head injury the Scotsman had so generously given him.

Juice heard a knock at his window. Three sharp, intentional raps that had Juice drawing his gun with the arm that wasn’t in a sling. It had to be a person, and the odds are it wasn’t a friend. Who the fuck would be knocking on his window? If it was friendly, they would’ve called or gone through the front door.

“Chibs?” Juice drew back the curtain to find the Scot hanging on to his ledge. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Cementin’ myself as a bloody idiot,” Chibs huffed, laboring to keep his hands gripped to the siding of Juice’s very old, very unstable home. “Will ye either let me in or push me off, I can’ hold on much longer.”

“And if I don’t let you in?”

“Shove me off to my death like tha’ bastard in the Lion King!”

“You’ve seen the Lion King?”

“Don’ test me, boy.”

Juice considered his options, much to Chibs’ chagrin. Should he let the asshole who knocked him upside the head into his bedroom, or should he let him fall into the tree below to probably break an arm or a leg?

Dammit, he was going soft. Or maybe he was just looking for a blowjob from a heavenly Scottish mouth.

“Get the fuck in here.” Juice grumbled.

He grabbed Chibs by the wrist with his one good hand which was enough to pull Chibs up onto the window sill. 

“You have a nice view there, laddie.” Chibs sat, half in-half out. 

“Of the city dump?”

“O’ me.” 

“Cocky asshole.”

“You can coun’ on it.”

Juice rolled his eyes as Chibs made his way into the bedroom, plopping right down on the bed like he was at home. He stretched his arms out, his shirt lifting up to reveal the trail of hair that led from his bellybutton to his stomach.

Juice couldn’t help but admire it, wanting to graze his tongue along it to make Chibs moan out his name. 

“Alrigh’, Juice?” Chibs snapped his fingers in front of Juice’s face to get his attention. “Earth to Juicyboy?”

Juice shoved Chibs’ hand out of his face. “Don’t you get the message when someone’s ignoring you? I imagine it happens a lot.”

“Because I’m annoyin’?” Chibs tilted his head like husky puppies do, looking wide-eyed and childlike even with the scars and lines that marked his face. “You don’ think I’m annoyin’, You  _ loooooooove _ me…”

Juice shoved Chibs back onto the bed and walked right by him, choosing to ignore the question. He grabbed the remote to put something funny on the television, so Chibs didn’t catch him watching romance movies. 

As Juice was focused on the television, Chibs was focused on Juice. Lad looked pretty rough, cuts and bruises littered his body. The sling made him look downright pathetic, and the kicked puppy look wasn’t doing Juice any favors for looking tough.

He looked like a puppy having a temper tantrum with that bitch look on his face.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Juice challenged.

Chibs, his top half sprawled out on the bed while his feet were planted on the ground. “Jus’ admirin’ ye. Ye look like someone beat the shite out o’ ye.”

“Well, guess whose fault that is.”

“M’sorry. Wasn’t gonna die in that crappy ol’ basement o’ yours.”

“Well, I’m still on probation  _ and _ I’m out of commission for the time being because they beat me so bad, Jax sent me home. So thanks.” Juice didn’t want to talk about it. He was still embarrassed that he whimpered at the last punch. Weak bitch. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Missed ye.”

“Liar.”

“Check my tongue for red spots. I ain’ no damn liar, Juicy.” 

The way Juice’s shoulders hunched and his whole demeanor seemed broken made Chibs want to take care of him.

“Do you live alone here?”

“Why do you want to know?” Juice spat. “Take care of any witnesses after you kill me? Don’t worry about that. I can’t even fight back in this state-”

Juice’s venom stung Chibs straight to the heart. The poor lad was hurt, angry, and all alone with no soul who cared about him. And he was all too aware of that. His physically compromised state made him even angrier.

“Lay down, will ye?” Chibs said, getting up to stand next to Juice. He cupped Juice’s cheel tenderly and pressed his lips to Juice’s nose. “I’m gonna take care of ye tonight.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you damn stupid Scotsman. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“Jus’ sit down, lad, before I knock ye upside the head again.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David carries a torch for Juice.

Deputy Chief David Hale stewed in his office. He cursed the fact that his chair didn’t move; his legs hurt too much to pace and just sitting there made him want to explode.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the complicated map of Queens on his wall, designated ‘turfs’ and webs of string that connected the dots between them: murders, suicides, battlefields. It was all there. David had spent his career knowing exactly who was where and what was going on, keeping track of turfs and how it changed. Every day, every week.

The Ozone Crew had the largest area and they were marked in blue. It troubled David that their area had become increasingly smaller over the past months. The Irish, in green, had encroached on their territories, and the influx of bodies had proved it. Gangsters on both sides were showing up dead.

“Fuck me,” David cursed, pushing his chair over backwards as he got up. “Bodies are littering the streets on both sides and my intel doesn’t do shit. Shit!”

He can feel that his face is red. Two important players: Chibs Telford and Juice Ortiz haven’t been spotted for days. No words about either of them, just that they’re probably dead in a ditch or thrown to the bottom of a river by now. Gangsters don’t go missing for five days without anyone knowing where they’re going.

A pang crushes David’s heart at the thought of Juice’s body being pulled out of the river.

“Come on, Juan,” David urges to the silent, empty air in his office. “Please show up.”

David carried a flame for a certain Mr. Ortiz. They went to high school together and, sure, a wannabe cop and a delinquent gangbanger didn’t make the best couple. They didn’t make any couple at all, it was just in David’s imagination after all, but the fantasy felt so real after all these years.

David knew Juice before the drugs. Before he learned how to shoot up, Juice had a brightness in his eyes that made David want to drop to his knees right then and there. But then the heroin made his cheeks hollow and his eyes hard, but David still wanted him.

David Hale was intent on saving Juan Carlos Ortiz, even after all these years.

He just wanted to have him in custody again. That was the closest he’d ever gotten to his fantasy becoming real, having Juice suck him off in the jail cell while he waited for his lawyer to show up. 

In his sick, twisted mind, Juice wanted it. Juice liked it. Juice got himself arrested just to be put up like this, held in David’s arms. Juice waited to post bail so he could stay with David for just a little longer.

But, now he was running away. And David was determined to be the one to find him, even if that meant pulling his body out of a river.

“I’m coming for you, Juan Carlos.” David brushed a finger over Juice’s icon on his masterboard. “I’ll be damned if I let you get away, baby.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs asserts his dominance.

“Ye’re too damn stubborn for your own good, lad.” 

Juice glowered at Chibs with an intense stare that usually made men quake in their boots. Chibs just laughed and that made Juice even more furious.

“Haven’ ye learned by now? Jus’ let me help ye.” Chibs watched Juice struggle from his place in the chair, leaning back in relaxation while steam started pouring from Juice’s ears. “Don’ you dare take off tha’ sling.”

Juice stared straight at Chibs while he whipped the sling off and threw it on the ground, daring Chibs to do something.

“You’re gonna ge’ yerself even more hurt if you do tha’.” Chibs warned, but he didn’t move from his seat at Juice’s kitchen table. “Jus’ let me take care of ye. Already been here for three whole days an’ I don’ see ye kickin’ me out anytime soon.”

Juice seethed. “Get out then.”

“Don’ be like tha’.”

By now, Chibs was getting up to pick up the sling from the floor. Even if he wanted to, Juice was in no shape to get it. Poor boy still had bruises blossoming along his ribcage and his face; he looked downright pitiful. 

As Chibs bent down, Juice struck him with a knee to the shoulder. Chibs came crashing down to the floor with a loud thump. He cursed in Scottish Gaelic and Juice was glad he couldn’t understand a word the Scotsman said.

A flash of regret washed over Juice’s face as Chibs looked at him from the ground, but it quickly vanished only to be replaced by anger. “Get up.” he snapped. “Get out of my house.”

“Wha’s ye damage, lad?” Chibs brushed himself off. “Why won’ you let me help ye?”

He brushed his fingertips over the tattoo on Juice’s forearm before Juice pulled away, contorting his face in pain as he whipped too fast for his injuries to handle.

“Come on, love.” Chibs murmured. “At least wear the sling. For me?”

“Why would I do shit for you?” Juice spat. “I don’t fucking want you.”

Juice’s words cut straight through Chibs, but he did a good job of hiding the hurt Juice was causing him. With the sling grasped firmly in his hand, he stood his ground, rivaling Juice’s furious eyes with his soft ones.

“Jus’ let me help ye put the sling on and then I’ll go, yeah?” Chibs whispered.

Juice didn’t answer, only stood there, and Chibs took this as an opportunity to gentle wrestle him into the sling. Juice still did not move, so this was a victory for Chibs, moving his body like a marionette and his master until Juice’s arm was properly supported.

“Good on ye lad. Keep it on, alrigh’?”

Chibs closed the door silently on his way out.

Before he could get his helmet on, and rev up the engine on his bike to drive off to the bar, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

_ Are you coming back later? -J _

Chibs smirked, but he didn’t answer, speeding off to a meeting with the Irish.

 

* * *

“Where the hell have you been, Scotty?”

Chibs shoved Galen away from him, rolling his eyes hard like a teenager arguing with her mum. The entire crew sat around the bar with their arms crossed over their chests, in shock that Chibs had actually walked through the door.

“We though’ you were dead, brother.” Jimmy spoke. “Figured we’d find your corpse washed up in the river next week.”

“Well, here I am.” Chibs shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a chair. “Sorry to disappoint ye.”

The tension was thick with disgust and Chibs could feel each Irishman thinking of twelve ways to stop the life in his lungs. With any luck, he’d make it to heaven before the devil even knew he was dead.

“Wha’ the hell are ye all lookin’ at?” Chibs spat, threatening everyone in the room. If he went out at least he wouldn’t have gone out a coward.

“Where were you?” Galen rounded on Chibs until they were chest to chest.

“Busy. Kidnapped.” Chibs refrained from pushing Galen out on his ass and chose to sit down in a chair. “Ozone had me tied up in their damn cellar for four days. Thought I was gonnae go insane.”

“Shite. Kidnapped?” Galen’s eyes went wide. “How’d you get out?”

“Wasn’ pretty. Go’ loose and then put the beatdown on one o’ the lads. Had to shimmy out the window and run three miles before I looked over my shoulder.”

The Irishmen all looked at him with respect, something Chibs wasn’t used to. Most of the time, he was an unwelcome stain on the organization, only kept around by the fact he wasn’t afraid to dirty his hands with blood like the rest of them were. 

“I like this. Goddamn respect. Abou’ time ye fuckers started showin’ it.” Chibs stood up. “I have to to take a piss, so I expect ye to start appreciatin’ me, considerin’ I didn’ spew shite after they tortured me.”

“Startin’ to get high and mighty there, Filip?” Jimmy said sarcastically. “Kiss your feet?”

“I wan’ ye to lick my goddamn boots. And don’ call me Filip.”


End file.
